


Forever Within the Numbered Days

by yestodayz



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Bucket List, But overall, Doyu, Friends With Benefits, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mentions of Cancer, Sad Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung, Suicide Attempt, Terminal Illnesses, but there's still sex scenes i promise, dotae, doyoung is really sad, doyu isn't the main pairing, it's a heavy one, please do not read this unless youre ok with being sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:02:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23151394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yestodayz/pseuds/yestodayz
Summary: There are seven days in a week. Sometimes, that number feels doubled. Sometimes, it feels halved. Sometimes, all the days run together and feel like one single, stretched day that passes excruciatingly slow. To Doyoung, though, it feels like none of these. To Doyoung, a week feels like nothing. Everything feels like nothing.Slowly, Doyoung has lost his will to live. He doesn't know when it all began. Everything is blurry, and nothing matters.Then, he's snapped back into reality.He wants to die, but not like this. He swore he'd do it on his own terms. He's angry that time got to him before he could get to himself.Now that time has run out, and he's already wasted so much life, Doyoung has a realization. There is a limited number of days left in his life. The clock is ticking, and there is only so much time to change the way that he has been living. After all, better late than never.He has nothing to lose now.Besides Taeyong, of course.
Relationships: Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Lee Taeyong, Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Nakamoto Yuta
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter One

There are seven days in a week. Sometimes, that number feels doubled. Sometimes, it feels halved. Sometimes, all the days run together and feel like one single, stretched day that passes excruciatingly slow. To Doyoung, though, it feels like none of these. To Doyoung, a week feels like nothing. Everything feels like nothing.

Doyoung has reached a point where he cannot differentiate Monday from Friday. He wakes up; he goes to university; he goes to his part-time job; he goes home; he cooks dinner; he reads or passes the time in his apartment; he goes to sleep. On weekends, he doesn’t have to go to class, but he usually still gets up at the same time and goes to study at the library on campus. He’s become a creature of habit, a victim of routine. He finds comfort in doing the same thing every day -- at least, he’s tricked himself into believing that it’s comfort.

It’s just as it sounds -- Doyoung doesn’t have many friends. He can’t pinpoint the exact period of time that it happened, but one day it seemed as if everyone just vanished from his personal life. Just up and left. He can’t blame them, though. He’s never been one to put in much effort, and he’s aware of that. Plus, after high school, suddenly everybody had to start thinking seriously about life. Everyone was reaching their early 20s, pursuing education or a career or both, meeting new people, and trying to maintain a good social life, all at once. Life as a young adult can be difficult, but if you give it effort and passion, it’s fun. Doyoung felt like he was the only one not having fun, and due to his natural lack of both effort and passion, his friends quickly dissipated. He’s conscious that he’s to blame, because after all, nobody knows his personality better than Doyoung himself. And Doyoung hates that his personality turned out this way.

Thus, most of his days are spent studying a subject that he doesn’t care for, working at a bookstore with a part-time job he doesn’t care for, and doing things alone. Sure, he enjoys a good book every now and then, and he likes cooking, too. But there is only so much you can enjoy until you start wanting to enjoy it with someone else.

He did enjoy it with someone else, up until about 3 months ago. There was a boy from his university that he was seeing, named Yuta. Fluffy long blonde hair, wide eyes, fashionable clothes and the body of an athlete, he definitely wasn’t Doyoung’s usual type. The two of them didn’t date, at least not officially. It was an accident that they even wound up together that one night in the first place, and the following months of their weird relationship-but-not-relationship were an accident, too, although Doyoung doesn’t regret that time spent with Yuta. But he knows Yuta would take it all back if he could. 

It began where most university students meet each other – in class. The two boys sat next to each other in the same math class, and after a month or two, Doyoung started picking up on Yuta’s gaze watching him as he’d enter the classroom, or Yuta beside him making short but noticeable head movements to look at Doyoung’s hands as they wrote notes across his paper, or the way that Yuta would uncomfortably shift his body in his chair multiple times during class. Now, Doyoung wasn’t and still isn’t well-versed in, err… people. The signs were there that Yuta wanted Doyoung’s attention, but Doyoung, being the way he is, figured he was just reading it the wrong way. Another month of class passed by as usual. Final exam season was just around the corner, and professors were beginning to assign end of the semester projects. For most of Doyoung’s classes, it was just a matter of taking an exam. For Doyoung’s math class, though, it was a take-home project that consisted of a 50-page packet filled with various math problems that needed to be solved. As shitty and time-consuming as that sounds, there was a catch. Everyone was assigned a partner. That day was Yuta’s lucky, or unlucky, day.

Doyoung and Yuta swapped phone numbers and decided to meet at the library during some evenings after Doyoung got off work. The first night, they sat at opposite ends of the table, individual coffee preferences in hand, chatting about their plan of action for this project. Doyoung felt relieved that night because Yuta had seemed nervous at first, but the tension cleared when they began talking about the project. So I read the air wrong after all, Doyoung remembers thinking. It was bold to think anybody who looks like Yuta would ever be interested in me, anyway.

The two would exchange a few words before and after class. Trivial stuff, like the weather or something about the project or class. Yuta asked to borrow one of Doyoung’s pencils because he forgot his. Funny, he’d never forgotten a pencil before.

The second time they met up at the library, they could begin working intensely on the math problems at hand. They sat at the same table, but there was only one packet of problems, so Doyoung plopped down in the chair next to Yuta. Yuta’s cheeks turned scarlet without Doyoung noticing as he took out his textbooks and notes from his bag. Without wasting time, the pair began working. 

They worked well together. Looking at the problems, Doyoung knew he’d have trouble completing it on his own, but with Yuta by his side, it felt like a piece of cake. Yuta was smart, like really smart, and the two boys worked until 1AM, a constant stream of calculator clicks, pencil marking, and laughing at how stupid math is. They barely got up or even looked away from the paper for hours. Once their coffees were finished and their brains were too tired, they closed the packet, leaned back in their chairs, and sighed. The project was only partially done, but they were ahead.

Doyoung looked at Yuta. The blonde boy’s usual wide eyes were drooping a little dude to exhaustion, but he had a small smirk of satisfaction on his face. He ran his fingers through his long hair and groaned. 

“I forgot I have a morning workout tomorrow. I have to get up in about four hours,” Yuta said. Doyoung was about to apologize, but then Yuta let out a laugh. “God, I think that’s the first time I’ve ever lost track of time because I was doing math!”

Doyoung eased up. “That goes for both of us then.”

“You know, it was oddly fun.”

“I wouldn’t call it fun, but we were definitely focused.”

“We probably looked crazy. Like two mad scientists in a frenzy.”

“Yeah.” Doyoung glanced over at Yuta again, only to accidentally lock eyes. This time, he noticed the pink spreading across Yuta’s nose and cheeks. But Yuta didn’t look away. Instead, he said, “Doyoung, don’t you live off campus?”

“I do.”

“Isn’t it far from here?”

Doyoung thought about it. “Yeah, maybe a 20 or 25 minute walk, since the busses have stopped running by now.”

“Are you going to be alright getting home? It’s late, and cold, and you must be tired…” Yuta trailed off, finally breaking their eye contact and looking down at the table. His entire face was flushed. “I’m not saying tonight, but next time we come work on the project, you’re welcome to stay at my place. It’s nearby, and I don’t mind you crashing there if you need to since I know you work every day too…” He mustered the courage to look back up at Doyoung. “So, you must be really tired by the time we start working on the project. I’m grateful I got someone like you as my partner, so it’s the least I could do to help!” He flashed a bashful but bright smile, and Doyoung’s heart beat a little faster. 

“Oh, uhm, yeah, that would actually be very helpful. Thank you,” Doyoung replied, awkwardly itching the back of his neck. “Next time.”

“Next time,” Yuta beamed. “Maybe we can just do the project at my place... I live alone anyway, so it’s quiet. And we can make as much coffee as we want.”

“That’s fine with me.”

“So, same time and day… next week? But at my place?”

“It’s a plan.”

_______________________

The week flew by without much event. Doyoung had, in fact, almost forgotten about going over to Yuta’s until the day came around. In class, Yuta quietly told him to come over whenever he finished work, and Doyoung, confused, just looked at him. Then he remembered. Right, he said, I’ll be there around 7 and I’ll bring my overnight bag.

Around 5:30, Doyoung checked his phone behind the counter at work. Yuta had sent him the address to his apartment. Wow, Doyoung thought, it is really close to the library. That’s convenient. 

Suddenly, Doyoung became nervous. He recalled last week at the library. The way he and Yuta worked so well together, and the way Yuta acted when they spoke or met eyes. And of course, the way Yuta invited him to his home. 

Doyoung was officially confused. Did this boy from math class have a crush on him? 

Doyoung had never thought of himself as attractive. He had good hygiene, but wore plain clothes, sometimes with glasses, and let his hair flop over his forehead instead of bothering to style it. He was tall with wide shoulders, but always thought he was too skinny. In terms of looks, he definitely would place boys like Yuta way out of his league. In terms of personality, too.

He was very aware of Yuta’s attractiveness. But Doyoung wasn’t one to go out of his way to get the attention of someone or to make moves. He wasn’t looking for anything and was content with being alone at that time in his life. Sex was always nice, sure, but he wasn’t dying for it or anything. So he tried not to look at Yuta in that way.

But one should always expect the unexpected.

____________________________

It all happened so quickly that, now, Doyoung hardly remembers the chain of events that led up to it. One minute, Doyoung was sitting there awkwardly on Yuta’s beat-up couch while Yuta made coffee in the cramped kitchen. Then Yuta was beside him on the couch, smiling, leaving a foot of space between them. Then they started working on math. Or at least trying to. Doyoung felt a lump in his throat every time he tried to speak. He could tell Yuta was nervous, too. The boy’s hand shook slightly when he wrote the equations. 

About an hour into the evening, the space on the couch between them had nearly closed. Doyoung felt Yuta’s shoulder brush against his own each time he reached for the calculator, and each time it happened Doyoung’s entire chest burned with embarrassment and longing. Yuta’s left thigh was pressed against Doyoung right one, and Doyoung felt like a statue with how still he was sitting -- he thought that if he moved, he’d scare Yuta away, as if the other boy was some beautiful wild creature that only appears once every blue moon.

It had been how long? A year? A year and a half? Since the last time Doyoung had sex. Let alone any strong sexual desire at all. He never dated for fun. That had never appealed to him.  
He could go a long time without sex because he never really thought about it the way that others did. He had other methods of stress release, and if he was horny, well, he has hands. It was just more convenient to not deal with other people. Doyoung was never one to give in to emotions, thought he didn’t choose to be that way, of course. But it was helpful sometimes. 

Yuta was clearly panicking, too. He wasn’t great at hiding his emotions, and now, sitting so close to the blonde boy from math class on his couch, about to sleep over at his home, Doyoung understood that his reading of Yuta during class was accurate the first time around. Yuta was definitely into Doyoung. And Doyoung was cornered now. Not that he was complaining, just taken off guard.

Things got blurry. One moment they were doing the math project; the next moment they’re sitting so close that their legs and shoulders are pressed against each other; then Yuta is straddling Doyoung, running his fingers through Doyoung’s hair, their lips locked, breathing heavy, and Doyoung is gripping Yuta’s ass, and Yuta’s moans pour out over his sloppy tongue, he grinds into the other’s lap, and Doyoung has forgotten how to do math completely.

Doyoung carried Yuta to the bedroom and threw him on the bed, practically ripping his own shirt off, then going for Yuta’s only to find that it was already gone. Yuta looked up at Doyoung with innocent puppy eyes but slid his hand into Doyoung’s jeans at the same time, panting, groping Doyoung impatiently, begging with his eyes.

The two spoke no words to each other. The only sounds were Yuta’s high-pitched moans – which turned Doyoung on in a way he’d never felt before – and Doyoung’s low growls and groans each time he slid in and out, eyes rolling back in pleasure as he thrusted messily into Yuta, shoving his head into the crook of the other boy’s neck, leaving bite marks and purple spots up and down his collar. He lost himself in the feeling of being intertwined with another body for the first time in so long. It had been so long.

They both finished, Doyoung finishing the hardest he ever had in his life. Afterwards, the pair cleaned up in silence, unsure of what to say to one another. Yuta laid in the bed while Doyoung cleaned up in the bathroom, the door closed, changing into pjs and brushing his teeth, putting on his glasses. He can’t remember what was running through his head at that time. Probably nothing. His mind must have been blank. 

He walked out of the bathroom and looked at Yuta, who was lying under the covers in boxers, no shirt on, staring at the ceiling. Yuta’s body was amazing. He had a chiseled chest and his arm muscles were sculpted, but compared to Doyoung’s height and wideness, his build was tiny. He looked so pretty lying there, wide-eyed at nothing. His hair was messy from the sex, and small bruises lead from just under his jawline down to his collarbones. The sight of it made Doyoung aroused again, which he felt guilty about for some reason. Maybe because this wasn’t supposed to happen at all.

Yuta finally turned his gaze to Doyoung. Doyoung couldn’t read it. He was bad at that. 

Yuta gave a shy smile and patted the other side of the bed. Doyoung hesitated, then made his way over, laying down next to his math partner. Neither of them had spoken a word yet, and the air felt thick in the bedroom. The fact that they had just fucked was present in the condom wrapper on the nightstand, and the smell of sweat and bodily fluids mixing in the thick air.

Finally, Yuta broke the silence.

“Well… that was nice.”

Doyoung remained silent. He wasn’t sure what to feel. Yes, it was nice. It was very, very nice. But now what? They were math partners for this project, meaning they’d have to meet privately to work with each other until the end of the semester. They had to sit next to each other in class, and there was always the chance that Yuta could be in another one of his classes next semester, too. Their school wasn’t that big. So now what? 

In situations like this, two options are presented. Option 1: Pretend it never happened. Go about your days normally, act like everything is normal, never bring it up again. Treat it as if it was an honest mistake that you won’t make again.

Or option two: Keep doing it.

That was half a year ago. Now, Doyoung comes home. He unlocks his door, steps inside, removes his shoes, and locks the door with a sigh. He goes to the kitchen and chugs a glass of water at the sink, not bothering to put ice in it. The apartment is quiet. He throws his backpack on the couch, then throws his body down next to it, sighing once more. He looks towards his bedroom. Yuta hasn’t been in there for three months, at the least. Has it really been that long? Doyoung thinks. 

He pulls out a book and tries to read, but can’t focus. Something is eating him up inside. He looks at his phone. There are no messages today. He’s not sure what he expected – he hasn’t had a message on his phone since Yuta. He hasn’t had a social life since before Yuta, even. 

Before Yuta, he was so used to being alone. But after Yuta came and went, Doyoung finally felt a sense of loss, which then resulted in him discovering the emptiness that had always been there. It was his own fault that he was always alone, because he pushed people away. Not on purpose, but indirectly, by not caring enough, not trying hard enough, not showing his feelings enough. It was always not enough. 

His studies are hurting recently, too, and his boss yelled at him at work today for being spaced out when a customer needed assistance. It appears that Doyoung has reached a point in which he is simply lacking. He can feel it, but at the same time he can’t. He knows that he isn’t doing enough, but he doesn’t want to do anything. He just wants to sleep and never leave his apartment again. Books and movies were losing their flavor. He doesn’t have any interesting hobbies. All he can do these days is sit on his couch and stare out the window and hope the next day doesn’t come.

Doyoung eventually heaves himself up from the couch, intending to fix some dinner, but doesn’t have any appetite, so he grabs a banana from the pantry and nibbles on it while walking around. He goes over to his room and peaks in, homing in on the bed. It’s a large bed, queen sized, that he’s had ever since he moved to university. The bedding is dark blue, Doyoung’s favorite color. An image of Yuta’s pale body spread in contrast against the dark sheet flashes before Doyoung’s eyes. Doyoung starts to become dizzy. He tosses out the unfinished half of banana, goes to chug another glass of water. He comes back to the bedroom and sits on the edge of his bed, then closes his eyes and remembers.

“Stop that! You know I hate them! Stop! Doyoung I’ll kill you!” He hears Yuta’s voice ringing in his head. It feels like he’s right there again. The memory is clear. Yuta runs through Doyoung’s small apartment, shielding himself behind various furniture while Doyoung, who had just found a small spider near the air vent, proceeded to chase Yuta with the spider cupped in his large, gentle hands. He was probably laughing as he chased Yuta, who eventually made it to the safe haven of Doyoung’s room, locking the door quickly behind him. Doyoung let the spider out of the living room window, satisfied. 

He knocked on his bedroom door. “Yutaaaaa,” he said slyly. “Open up now. I don’t have the spider anymore.”

“You’re a liar!” 

“I’m not lying.”

“All men do is lie!”

Doyoung rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Seriously, just open up—” he put his fingers around the handle and twisted, getting a shock when the door pushed open with ease. Yuta hadn’t even locked it, just pretended to. What a little brat.

When he opened the door, he saw Yuta sprawled out on the bed. He was fully clothed, but his shirt was riding up a little, exposing his v-line and abdomen. It was a tank top, too, so his arm muscles flexed as he lifted them behind his head, shooting Doyoung a smug smirk. He licked his lips, his tongue flicking out to make them glossy. “Dummy. Come here,” he said, patting the space beside him.

Doyoung rolled his eyes again. “Don’t call me dummy. This is my house.”

“I’ll call you what I want. You just chased me around with a spider. I could’ve died.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Make me?” Yuta pulled his head over his shirt in a swift manner, not giving Doyoung time to react. Yuta ran his hand down his own torso on the bed, slipping his hand into his black sweatpants. He whimpered. “If you won’t help me then I’ll do it myself.”

Doyoung slowly closed the door. He had truly never met anyone as horny as Yuta. They had sex almost every day for the past month ever since that night at Yuta’s apartment. Does he ever get tired? It occurred to Doyoung then that he might not be the only one Yuta was seeing. After all, nothing was officially, they didn’t talk about their relationship. It didn’t bother Doyoung, not at first. Right at that moment, all he could think of was fucking Yuta’s brains out.

Doyoung opens his eyes. The image of Yuta has disappeared, along with the surge of serotonin from the memory. He’s alone in his room, head throbbing, half hard now. He sighs.

It’s only 9pm, but Doyoung skips the shower and crawls under the covers, still dressed in his work uniform. He eventually drifts into a stupor and swears that he hears Yuta’s voice whisper something in his ear right before he collapses into a deep sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW // rough sex, implied suicide attempt.

There are only so many ways one can cope with internal pain. Some drink themselves to death. Others find religion. Doyoung isn’t interested in alcohol, nor god. There’s nothing that he’s interested in right now, except dying. 

He’s taking a week off from class, telling his professors that his mom has come down with the flu, and that he has to go home and take care of her. This is all a lie. But the professors don’t question it and tell him to turn in the homework he’ll miss whenever he gets the chance. It’s Wednesday now, and Doyoung has been in his apartment, in his bed, since the beginning of the week.

He wakes up around 8am, and groggily makes his way to the bathroom. He doesn’t bother putting on his glasses. There’s nothing he needs to see, especially not himself. Even staring at his blurry reflection in the mirror, he can tell two things: he needs to shave. And his eyes are empty.

When did he become such an empty person? People are supposed to have light behind their eyes, especially people Doyoung’s age. Every week, he looks at his peers seated around him in class and watches them interact with one another, helping each other study, laughing, making plans for the weekend, sharing things about their private lives. Doyoung can’t remember the last time he had friends close enough to do that. He didn’t have any friends at all now. 

Wednesday. It’s Wednesday. What was he doing on a Wednesday 6 months ago? Probably waking up next to Yuta, making love to him, then going to class. Functioning as a normal human being the best that he could. That all feels so distant now.

Doyoung can’t say for sure if being with Yuta made him happy or not. Like, genuinely happy. Was he in love? He certainly didn’t know. Doyoung had no clue what love was supposed to feel like. He had never felt it before. Yuta was in love, though, Doyoung knew. He didn’t know why Yuta loved him the way that he did, but he loved him, nonetheless. At least, he said he did. The first time Yuta mumbled those three little words, marked the beginning of their end. 

___________________________________________________________________________ 

He had said it during sex. Doyoung had a rough day at school and work, came home tired and cranky. It was one of those days where Doyoung had trouble feeling anything but sadness and frustration. These types of days still happened even though he was with Yuta. They just happened less frequently.

Doyoung was lying on his bed when Yuta texted him, and Doyoung immediately asked Yuta to come over and stay the night. The two had been sleeping together for about 2 months at this point, so Doyoung was now unashamed to ask for Yuta’s body.

The moment Yuta walked through that door; all hell broke loose. Doyoung can’t even remember why now – maybe he looked pissed off so Yuta made a snarky comment about it or something. It started as a light back and forth at first, but Doyoung was already in a bad mood, and was becoming progressively irritated. So Doyoung snapped back at Yuta, something he usually doesn’t do. And thus, their first real fight commenced.

“Well why the fuck am I here if you don’t even want me here then?” Yuta snarled, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms. His hair was up in a messy bun, and light hickeys from the week before could be seen on the back of his neck when he turned his back to Doyoung.

Doyoung slammed his hand down on the counter of his kitchen, startling the blonde boy into turning back around. “I DO want you here, I just, my head is so messed up right now, I can’t think straight, okay?” Doyoung lifted his hand to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers.

“Well, try harder. I was just trying to put you in a better mood.”

“I CAN’T BE IN A BETTER MOOD! I’M FUCKING MISERABLE!” Doyoung roared.

Yuta froze. The echo from Doyoung’s voice seemed to hang in the air. Even Doyoung was surprised at the force behind his words.

Then he added, in a small voice: “I don’t want you to leave and go to somebody else.”

“Somebody else,” Yuta repeated, confused. “Somebody— Doyoung, is that what this is about, do you think I’m seeing other people?” He sounded helpless; the hurt dripped out of every syllable, and Doyoung immediately regretted his words.

That wasn’t what it was about. Not really, not at all. In fact, Doyoung was drowning in his own depression, without realizing it clearly at the time. Yuta was there in front of him in that moment, and he could use Yuta as a distraction.

“I’m not your boyfriend or anything. I figured there was a reason,” Doyoung said, tone flat, avoiding Yuta’s eyes.

Suddenly, Doyoung felt a warm hand on his cheek. Yuta was inches away from him, cupping his face in those dainty but powerful hands. The blonde boy had a serious look on his face, and was searching Doyoung’s eyes so hard that Doyoung felt naked. What was he seeing? Could he tell that, inside Doyoung, there was nothingness?

Yuta pulled his face closer to the taller boy’s. The tips of their noses were grazing.

“You’re the only one,” Yuta muttered into Doyoung’s lips. “I promise.”

Doyoung fucked him over the counter. He couldn’t hold back, couldn’t wait until they were in the bedroom. A steamy make-out session was all it took, and so many things were surging through Doyoung’s body and mind. He wanted to lose all of that for a moment, and Yuta was the best way to do so. 

Doyoung’s large hands slid up and down the smaller boy’s waist as the apartment filled with the sounds of their sloppy kisses and heavy breathing. Yuta pushed himself into Doyoung’s body with so much needy force that Doyoung was pinned up against the counter, when all of a sudden Yuta broke the kiss and started planting them on Doyoung’s neck, and then dropped to his knees. Doyoung couldn’t help but moan at the sight of Yuta down in front of him, unzipping his pants and yanking them to his ankles. The head was great, and watching Yuta give it was even greater. His tongue was amazing. But Doyoung wanted to feel Yuta in other ways, and with each bob of Yuta’s head, Doyoung could hardly take it anymore, eyes rolling back in his head with pleasure.

He grabbed Yuta by the hair and yanked up. Yuta, surprised, looked up into his eyes, still on his knees, fully clothed, saliva and precum dripping down his chin. “You’re so fucking pretty,” Doyoung muttered in a low tone. “Need to fuck you.”  
That’s all it took. Almost immediately, Yuta was unclothed and bent over the counter, slowly fingering himself. His fingers slid in and out easily. “I was thinking about you today, so… I’m already prepped.” 

“Thinking about me,” Doyoung mumbled, mindless, as he lined up his dick with Yuta’s ass, and entered slowly. Yuta let out a soft gasp, his hands in fists on the cool countertop. 

“Ah, yeah, thinking about you.”

Once Doyoung had bottomed out, he could barely contain his aggression. The nothingness behind his eyes had been replaced with fire. He placed a rough hand under Yuta’s throat, sticking a finger in his mouth, revved back and slammed into the blonde boy with so much force that the counter shook. Yuta gasped again, louder this time, and Doyoung couldn’t stop. He rammed into Yuta harder each time, raising the boy’s leg up to get a better angle. Yuta could barely stand it, it felt so good, it was so rough. “More,” he’d moaned. “P-please, harder.”

Doyoung complied. He fucked his stress reliever until he was crying. Silent tears of pain and pleasure ran down Yuta’s pretty, flushed face as Doyoung drilled into him, smacking his ass and pulling his head back by the hair.

Eventually, Doyoung threw him onto the couch and took him there, missionary style, to finish themselves off. The two looked into each other’s eyes as the larger one thrusted slowly and steadily now, savoring each second. Yuta, still crying slightly, pulled the other in for a deep kiss, causing him to thrust faster.

“Yuta, I’m gonna cum,” Doyoung panted into Yuta’s mouth. “Fuck.”

“Cum inside me,” Yuta whispered hoarsely. Doyoung groaned in agreement and his hips became more erratic, chasing the climax.

“Doyoung,” Yuta said softly, digging his nails into the boy’s back. “I love you.”

It wasn’t love. 

Doyoung thinks that, if he really loved Yuta, he wouldn’t have let himself hurt that boy the way he did. His feelings for Yuta were always muddled. He cared for the boy, of course. More so than he cared for anybody else at that time. Whether the rest of his feelings were purely sexual or not, he’s still unsure. No matter what they were, they weren’t enough for Yuta. And that wasn’t Yuta’s fault. But Yuta didn’t know that.

He wanted to love Yuta so badly. Doyoung just wanted to have a strong emotion. Just once. For something, anything. For someone else.

It’s 9am. Time moves like thick honey. Every tick of the clock sends Doyoung further and further into a spiral. He tries to recall the last time he talked to somebody about the way his brain works. The way he feels so empty all the time, the way nothing matters to him, the way he feels nothing and everything all at once sometimes, the way he cannot love nor be loved, the way he doesn’t know why he’s like this and god that’s the most frustrating part, why is he like this, he doesn’t want to be like this, he didn’t choose this, he promises.

The mere act of breathing hurts. Doyoung feels like a robot. He tries to search his memory for something happy, but can’t find anything to latch on to. Maybe he is a robot, then.

His thoughts aren’t empty today. Instead, his mind is filled with questions: How did he get to this point? Or has he always been at this point, and was it Yuta that finally sent him over the edge? Did his old high school friends think about him anymore? Did he cross a single mind, ever? Yuta was the only one to give him a second thought, and he let that slip through his fingers like sand. 

What’s it like, not being alive? Is the pain of being alone still present? Is it like sleeping? If it’s like sleeping, that would be lovely. He’d like to die if it was like sleeping. 

There are sleeping pills in the medicine cabinet. Doyoung decides he is ready to take a long nap.


End file.
